


Mile High Club

by Muffarino



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Lance is sorry not sorry, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Shance centric but other characters will appear, Shiro is a thirsty mess, flight attendant Lance, inappropriate work conduct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffarino/pseuds/Muffarino
Summary: Frequent flier Takashi Shirogane swears he must have pissed off some higher power in a past life because he's 100% convinced he's cursed with bad luck in plane travel. As familiar as he has become with screaming children kicking his chair, passengers snoring directly into his ear, and airplane food spillages, travel is still something he dreads.That is, before he kept running into a godsend flight attendant who not only makes flights bearable...but something to look forward to.





	Mile High Club

You’d think after a few years of flying at least once a week Shiro would be used to it by now but he’d long since come to the conclusion that the universe hated him. The whole process of flying left him anxious and exhausted.

_Economy_. Shiro repressed a groan as he made his way down the bridge, carry on flung over his shoulder. He was fortunate enough to fly business class often for work but with the frequency he travels across the country they had to save costs somewhere and he’d fly economy most of the time. Economy wasn’t bad and he knew the price tag on the more luxurious seats was enough to make most people cringe but he was a big man and those chairs were _tiny_. His broad shoulders were wide enough to take up the entire width of the seat and he’d bump arms with his neighbours constantly. Eating meant curling in on himself and trying to shovel whatever sad morsels of lukewarm airplane food he could balance on a flimsy plastic fork into his mouth with as little movement as possible. He looked ridiculous and he knew it but he had long given up on appearances when he was squished together with a bunch of strangers like sardines. Sleeping on the rare international flight was far beyond reach and even sitting was uncomfortable.

On top of it all Shiro seemed to have an infinite reserve of bad luck when it came to flying. He couldn’t remember a single flight he had been on where he hadn’t been surrounded by restless children or people who cared little for their own personal hygiene and even less for the comfort of those around them.

So when Shiro boarded the plane and awkwardly shuffled down the aisle, too big for the narrow space, and found his allocated seat surrounded by and absolute _herd_ of children he sighed but resigned himself to yet another uncomfortable flight. At least the toddler next to him wouldn’t mind his arms spilling over the armrest. He’d barely sat down and closed his eyes when it began: the relentless bam, bam, bam of little size four feet slamming into his seat, jostling him forward with every blow.

The girl next to him; young, innocent, and painfully oblivious of social norms; stared at him with unabashed curiosity before turning to tug on her mother’s sleeve. “Mama, that man looks weird,” she announced loud and clear enough that the rows around them could hear.

Shiro’s winced but forced himself to act like he hadn’t heard while her mother made desperate attempts to shush her. It was a noble effort but then the girl had touched his right hand. Shiro could tell she had even though he couldn’t feel anything through the prosthetic because of the way she had instantly broken down into messy, snotty sobs. Fear thick in her voice as she loudly pronounced she was ‘sitting next to a robot’. The mother’s cheeks were bright red and she looked like she was about to die from embarrassment. Shiro assured her it was okay with the most charmingly fake smile he could muster when she apologised profusely to him.

The thumping on the back of his chair continued without pause.

Shiro ignored it all without complaint. For although his supply of bad luck was endless he had the patience to match. It’s only for a few hours.

_It’s only for a few hours._

He scrunched his face up in discomfort and repeated his mantra over again as he had done continuously for the past hour, maybe this time he’d be calmed by it. It failed, obviously, but anything would have failed in his situation. The girl had stopped crying soon after take-off but hadn’t wasted time spilling her juice all over his dress shirt and unapologetically ignoring him to talk her exhausted mother’s ear off. The boy behind him had limitless energy and parents who didn’t care what he did or how many tiny kicks the passenger in front could take. He’d tried to focus on the in-flight entertainment but he’d lost track of the plot ages ago. _It’s only for a few hours_ , he told himself again.

The girl had started crying again. No, wailing would be more appropriate. She was screaming and sobbing loud enough the whole cabin turned to face them. Disgruntled murmurs and glares were aimed in his direction. Shiro sunk down in his seat as best he could to avoid the crowd but he couldn’t avoid the uproarious menace tearing up the plane beside him. Desperate, tiny fists slammed down on anything within reach, including but not limited to: armrests, cushions, the backs of seats, her mother’s arms, Shiro’s thigh. If the mother hadn’t died of embarrassment yet she looked as if she would after this outburst. Tears prickled her eyes as she unsuccessfully tried to calm her daughter down in the most exhausted voice Shiro had ever heard. He’d seen people in his military service who looked less wrecked than her and the concept of fatherhood began to frighten him as much as it excited him.

One of the flight attendants rushed over and knelt down. He had to lean over Shiro’s lap to reach the girl, keeping enough distance to not be invading personal space but Shiro still averted his eyes for modesty’s sake. Or at least he tried to but what he witnessed was impossible to ignore. The man was an absolute godsend with an unnatural talent with children. When he started to work his magic Shiro couldn’t peel his eyes away.

“Hey there, princess. I love your voice but let’s save it for the big stage, what do you say?” The flight attendant chirped, positively radiating charm and a smooth confidence that already told Shiro this man knew what he was doing. The girl’s sobs only hesitated for a short hiccup to open an eye at the strange man before she was screaming up a lung again. Shiro winced. At least if this failed she would tire herself out quickly.

The flight attendant wiggled his well-defined and meticulously shaped eyebrows and spoke again. “This jester has a gift for you. Wanna guess what it is?” It was only now that Shiro realised the man had his hands behind his back.

The girl’s curiosity was peaked and she tried to get a glimpse by climbing over Shiro’s armrest and partially into his lap while still making high-pitched sobbing, needy noises that hurt his ears. “Whad is it?”

Seeing Shiro’s personal space be so heavily violated by a tiny human, the flight attendant shot him a sympathetic smile and thankfully decided to end his pain quickly. “Ta-daaa!” He shoved tanned hands forward, an easy grin curling his lips like it belonged there, like the very act of smiling was invented solely to grace this man’s face.

The girl immediately stopped her expedition into Shiro’s seat. The flight attendant held a plastic cup of water in his hands. Just simple water. The girl was unimpressed and her sobs returned full force. Razzle dazzle and astonishingly beautiful smiles aside, Shiro was starting to doubt the man’s confidence actually had any correlation to success. That was until the man started pulling at his earlobes, cheeks puffed out cutely.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” His voice was softer now, tender. “Your ears feel all icky right? Take a biiiiig sip of water for me, princess, and I promise it will go away,” he prompted and gently took the girl’s shaking hands in his to curl around the cup, helping her bring it to her lips. He held it stable while she took a few sips, her arms not strong enough by themselves, and surely enough her sobs died off instantly. She sat back in her seat fiddling with the now empty cup, the very picture of a well behaved child. Shiro couldn’t help looking around because surely this was some kind of magic trick or show and there must have been cameras. The full 180 he had just witnessed was nothing short of a miracle.

“Thank you,” the mother whispered, voice earnest and awestruck.

The flight attendant, whose name tag Shiro could finally read as ‘Lance McClain’, ruffled the back of his short hair and waves a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, ma’am. Pressure up her sucks and kids often don’t know what it is or how to deal with it,” he explained quickly, feet turned and eager to leave as the mother fumbled over her own tongue thanking him over and over.

Instead of dashing away instantly Lance turned his attention to the next kick-boxing world champion behind Shiro. “Hey kid, what’s your dinosaur’s name?” He addressed casually and Shiro had to twist his torso uncomfortably to eavesdrop. Lance pointed to the plush dinosaur nestled snuggly in the boy’s lap.

The boy blinked large brown eyes a few times, not expecting the attention. “Jeremy,” he answered proudly. Shiro was disappointed that, even when talking, the boy’s kicks didn’t cease. Perseverance was this boy’s strong suit apparently, alongside developed leg muscles a nine year old boy has no business having.

Lance leant over and gently plucked ‘Jeremy’ up and nestled him in the seat pocket alongside the safety manuals and entertainment magazines. “There, now Jeremy is all buckled up and safe for the flight too like a responsible passenger. But now that he’s there you can’t kick him. He’s your friend isn’t he?”  
  
The boy nodded.

“Do you kick your friends? Wait don’t answer that – I was your age once too,” Lance joked easily.

It worked. The boy’s kicks stopped instantly and Shiro felt like he’d reached nirvana. It was quiet, it was still, it was…dare he say it…comfortable. He finally, _finally_ had a flight that was comfortable.  
  
Lance was an angel, Shiro decided then and there. There was no way such a godsend, such a stroke of luck, such a downright blessing was anything but divine.

Lance turned to Shiro and offered him undoubtedly the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen coupled with a wink so alluring it should have been illegal. An unfair combination that made his heart flip. “Have a good flight, sir.”  
  
He certainly did.

\--

Shiro wasn’t expecting to see Lance again. Yet after witnessing Lance’s otherworldly skill with children he continued to spot him. Shiro exclusively and frequently flew Voltron Air but he didn’t expect there would be such a reoccurring cast of flight attendants, or perhaps there was and he’d never paid attention before now.

Over the next month Shiro was lucky enough to see Lance twice more in action. He witnessed more acts of kindness and charm that came too naturally to Lance. He had sung and danced to the amusement of a passenger when their broken in-flight entertainment system was being fixed. He had held and rocked a crying child to give an exhausted single-father a much-needed break. He calmed a hysterical lady in soft soothing Spanish who had been otherwise unapproachable in her terror. He listened to an old wizened man retell tales of his youth with enough patience to make the man beam joyfully.

It’s so easy to ignore flight attendants and staff, give them no second glance or commit them to memory as their faces fade amongst the veritable sea of people crammed into a giant metal bird. But, upon thorough (and absolutely inappropriate, Shiro chastised himself) inspection of Lance he wondered how he’d ever missed him. He certainly couldn’t drag his eyes away now. Lance was beautiful and so, so bright and Shiro was a weak man.

Before a flight to LA Shiro turned his attention to a small group of flight attendants gathered outside his departing gate, identical carry-on suitcases lined up next to them, and spotted a familiar figure amongst the crowd. Lance’s uniform suited him well. Obviously bespoke, the navy jacked hugged his lithe frame nicely, accentuating his broad shoulders and thin waist. Only the pants looked a size tighter than they should but when faced with long, slender legs and a perfect rear Shiro had to mutter a silent thank you to whatever god had clearly sculpted Lance themselves. With a build like Lance’s the slacks must have been custom made - few people had legs like that so it hadn’t come just off the rack - which meant the tightness was on purpose. With the heart stopping wink he had sent Shiro’s way last time they caught eyes and the confident way Lance held himself Shiro could safely say his assumption was correct.

Lance was busying himself in a losing battle with another flight attendant’s unruly mane of hair. His concentration entirely upon taming the birds’ nest back into a delicate bun, elastic held between his lips and brows furrowed, giving Shiro the opportunity to subtly observe. Or at least he thought it was subtle until that piercing gaze was directed at him with one brow raised and, to Shiro’s relief, a curious and teasing smirk curling his lips. When he sent another wink Shiro’s way it felt like his lungs had rudely relocated themselves to his throat and he quickly avoided his gaze, rushing off to the bar for a drink to calm himself before the gates opened, early hour be damned.

From the corner of his eye he witnessed the comical explosion of hair as the elastic Lance had been using on the shorter attendant snapped. Various pitches of groans in harmony behind him.

An hour passed quickly and the drink he’d managed to down before the flight left him feeling pleasantly relaxed as Shiro boarded the flight. He was quite proud of himself for hardly noticing when he passed by Lance. He didn’t even react to his neighbour; a grubby man who was _somehow_ already asleep and snoring loudly despite the fact that the plane was still boarding and the 7am sun was shining directly onto his drooling face. After settling in and checking his mail on his phone one last time the plane began take-off procedures.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain, Allura Altea speaking.”

A smooth, confident voice came over the speakers and Shiro was grateful for his aisle seat for the view of Lance in the galley overdramatically fanning himself and swooning at the voice. The short, androgynous flight attendant from before was giggling and punching his arm fondly.

“Let me welcome you aboard Voltron Flight 59A to Boston. We will be taking off shortly, current weather conditions look good and we should be arriving in Boston at 7:20 local time. On behalf of the cabin crew I ask that you please pay close attention to your monitors or our cabin crew as we review the emergency procedures.”

Shiro was quietly grateful Voltron Air had yet to dispose of the somewhat antiquated practice of having flight attendants in the aisles assisting in the safety procedure when Lance stopped right next to him.

And wow, was it a show. As the disembodied voice of some pre-recorded safety video filled the cabin Lance produced one of the seatbelts, overdramatically showing it off with sweeping gestures that better belonged on a dance floor or stage than the tight aisle he was performing in. Lance spun his hands around artfully to point out the exits. He struck poses and vogued his way through the life vest and oxygen mask demonstrations like it was a magazine photoshoot not a safety demonstration. He strut up and down the aisle, blowing kisses and swaying his hips ridiculously to play up the absurdity and humour of his little show.

He turned every motion into a dance or joke and it had managed to catch the attention of many of the passengers around him, some even twisted around or climbed over their seats to watch. It wasn’t long before the whole cabin was chuckling and cheering along to Lance’s performance. Shiro refused to admit his eyes would have been glued to Lance regardless of the showiness.

Lance finished his demonstration by dropping into a splits that would be at the forefront of Shiro’s mind for the remainder of the flight. He disappeared around the corner into the galley. His arm stuck out a moment later with the life vest and dropped it to the ground in a sensual manner to the uproarious laughter of the cabin. The smile on Shiro’s face refused to leave for the next half hour.

However the smile immediately dropped alongside his jaw when he was startled partway through the flight. “Well, if it isn’t my most handsome passenger~” a sing-song voice called out, pulling Shiro’s attention away from the rim of his plastic cup. Lance smiled down at him, lackadaisically draping himself over the refreshments trolley. “Who I don’t even know the name of, might I add.”

Shiro, dumbstruck, could barely mutter out a soft ‘Shiro’ in reply.

“Well, Shiro,” and _God_ if the way Lance rolled the R across his tongue, tasting it, didn’t send a shiver down his spine, “can I interest you in some breakfast? A drink? Or perhaps you want me?” He asked in a syrupy voice, curling his fingers into a cliché love heart.

The flight attendant on the opposite end of the trolley, a boy who looked the same age with long hair pulled back into a strained pony-tail, groaned and looked like he wanted to immediately eject himself from the emergency exit. “It’s too early for this shit, Lance.”

Lance just flipped him the bird nonchalantly, not even deigning to look his direction like it was routine at this point. “I’m the sweetest thing we got, honey,” he cocked his hips and shot finger guns at Shiro, “but maybe you want something hot and spicy.”

Shiro couldn’t hold back the chuckles that tumbled past his lips and made a mental note to commit the way Lance’s face lit up to memory alongside him doing the splits. “Breakfast would be nice,” he answered.

“Sweet, I know this great little breakfast bar just—oww,” his quip was cut short when his partner punched him squarely in the arm and he focussed instead on rubbing his sore appendage and glaring daggers at the other man.

“Sorry, sir. This halfwit left his brain in the terminal.” Despite the attendant’s scowl at Lance there was no denying the fond amusement in his eyes.

Shiro shook his head. “It’s quite alright, it’s pretty entertaining actually.” Lance’s pout morphed into a smug grin at Shiro’s words. Shiro was once again taken aback by how expressive Lance could be. It was enthralling.

Alongside the friendly chatter the pair quickly set about serving Shiro his meal. Lance gave him a quizzical look at his request for coffee.

“Real talk: how much of your blood is coffee right now? You look far more awake than you have any right to be and I can’t tell if I’m annoyed or impressed but I’m pretty sure it’s not natural.”

Shiro’s head his the cushioned seat when it tipped back to laugh. “I’d estimate 60%. Would be more but coffee IV drips are still illegal.”

“Big fucking mood,” Lance nodded and passed over his cup. “Here you go. Hot stuff for the hot stuff.” After Lance had safely deposited the cup of steaming coffee onto Shiro’s tray table he reeled back suddenly with an overdramatic gasp, clutching his chest. “S-sir, it’s illegal to bring weapons onto planes.”

Shiro blinked in confusion and no small amount of concern. “W-what? I’m not—“  
  
“Really? Because I swore you cut me with those good looks,” Lance positively _purred_ out.  
  
Whatever Shiro could have possibly conjured up as a reply in his stunned state was thankfully left unspoken when the other flight attendant’s loud, frustrated groan cut him off. “Lance, you can’t even joke about that, you idiot.” He tugged at the food trolley, dragging Lance along with it. “Come on and do your job before the cabin riots.”

Lance left Shiro with a teasing wink and a nest of butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t interact Lance again for the rest of the flight, a fact he was somewhat grateful for as it give his emotions a break. Soon enough they were getting ready for descent and the captain’s voice resounded again.

“We thank you for flying Voltron Air, the airline with the best looking and best trained flight attendants,” Shiro cursed his traitorous brain for conjuring up an image of Lance, “sadly none of whom are with us on this flight. Thank you,” Captain Allura announced, humour dripping from her tone and smirk obvious despite the disembodied voice. The whole cabin burst out into chuckles, even a quick glance to the galley showed the attendants took it in good humour.

When it came time to disembark Shiro stopped in front of where Lance stood to bid passengers farewell. He spared a glance behind him to note he was one of the last to leave and mentally shrugged, what were the chances he’d see Lance again anyway. If Lance was going to hit him with terrible flirting attempts and pick up lines Shiro could play that game.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re the best looking flight attendant I’ve ever seen,” he assured in a voice more confident than he was actually feeling and willed himself to wink although he was almost certain both eyelids had closed in the attempt. Lance’s jaw dropped immediately and he was left fumbling for words that refused to form, much to the amusement of his fellow flight attendants who failed to suppress their giggles. It took the rest of Shiro’s willpower to push down his awkwardness and stride away.

He had somehow managed to mechanically navigate his way through the busy terminal to the taxi rank outside, his mind resolutely stuck on the memory of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen blown wide with surprise.

\--

The chances of seeing Lance again were very high, it seemed. The universe just loved to prove it hated Shiro but for once this wasn’t something he could complain about. Well at least the Lance part. There was plenty to complain about otherwise.

His flight was delayed indefinitely and he was stuck in the Miami airport for who knew how long. A large storm had blown in from the Caribbean and a thick blanket of rain had descended upon the city. The wind was so strong it blew the rain sideways and, although he couldn’t see far out the windows in this weather, Shiro could see the trees outside the terminal were bending dangerously far under the brunt of the gale. The monstrous roar could be heard even through the thick glass. Needless to say, no planes were leaving in this weather and all had been delayed until the storm cleared.

Shiro had only just found a seat, the terminal being packed with stuck travellers, when his attention was completely and instantaneously caught by a familiar voice. “Hey, handsome. Could I interest you in some overpriced terminal cocktails and tasteless bar nuts?”

As gorgeous as Lance was in neat and proper uniform, seeing him wear it more casually stole Shiro’s breath. His tie and jacket were abandoned and the sleeves of his pale blue uniform dress shirt rolled up to his elbows looked stunning against tanned and freckled skin. Shiro felt his face melt into a soft fond smile. “Sounds perfect.”

With nothing but a sultry gaze and a flick of his head Lance led Shiro a few minutes away to a lounge at the very corner of the terminal. Various tables and counters lined the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. The place was packed with weary travellers nursing drinks they’d purchased long ago in order to not get kicked out of a customer only seating area but the two managed to find a seat at the bar.

Lance immediately propped himself up on the counter and made his order, leaning so far in that Shiro was genuinely concerned he might topple over to the other side. The bartender, a blonde woman with a bizarre and honestly unprofessional four-ponytail hairstyle, was evidently familiar with Lance’s antics and didn’t look concerned. She just playfully shoved him until his ass hit the stool with a rattle. “This may come as a shock to you but being a flight attendant doesn’t exactly have me rolling in money so you can buy your own overpriced, watered down toilet water.” The bartender snapped at him but it was without any malice. How Lance could endear so many people to him despite obviously being familiar with the role of an annoyance was a mystery.

Shiro ordered without much thought and he couldn’t even remember what words had come out of his mouth but you couldn’t blame him - his attention was elsewhere. “So your flight was delayed too?”

Lance’s face hit the bar and he groaned into the polished wood. “Yeah. I don’t start getting paid until the cabin doors close and no uber or taxi is driving anyone anywhere in this weather so I can’t even go home. I’m stuck here but at least the company’s good.” Shiro filed the information that Lance was based in Miami away and nodded sympathetically.

Shiro took his drink when it arrived and hummed into the glass, the bartender surreptitiously placed Lance’s martini in front of him and pet his head lightly. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

Lance turned his face so one cheek was resting against the bar and observed Shiro in silencefor a minute. “Keep me company until your flight is inevitably cancelled in an hour.”

“Cancelled? It’s just a little storm, they said we’d be flying again soon.”

Lance straightened up and shot him a gaze full of equal parts humour and pity. “Trust me, I know a thing or two about Florida weather and you are _not_ getting on another plane tonight, mister,” Lance retorted with all the certainty in the world.

With a quirked brow, Shiro took his own seat and observed the man next to him. “There’s not even a hurricane warning, it’s just some heavy rain that’ll pass in an hour or two.”

A dismissive hand waves in Shiro’s face as Lance busies himself with drawing patterns in the condensation of his martini glass with nails that _must_ be manicured. “Nope. This will rage through the whole damn night.” He took a large sip of his drink.

“They would have told us by now if it was that bad,” Shiro countered but he was beginning to doubt his resolution.

Lance finally tilted his head towards Shiro, a sparkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. It was damn near as intoxicating as the cocktails they were drinking and Shiro was so lost in endless blue he nearly missed Lance’s next words. “How about a little bet then? _When_ your flight gets officially cancelled, and it will, you owe me a drink and your company for the rest of the night we’re trapped together in this terminal.”

“And if I’m right?”

“Irrelevant. You’re not,” Lance proclaims with a taut chin held high.

Shiro realised he may have underestimated his strength when the playful nudge he gave Lance nearly knocked the slender boy off his stool but Lance’s giggles reassured him he hadn’t accidentally injured him. “Well if I’m right, I get my seat upgraded to business,” he countered smoothly before his face scrunched up in thought. “Can you even pull those strings?”

Lance doesn’t even hesitate, so sure of his victory, and clinks their glasses together in acceptance of the deal before throwing the rest of his drink back. “Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna win. You got yourself a deal.” He spins back to face the bar, lifting the cocktail menu to peruse. “Now, to decide what I’ll make you buy me.”

When an hour of surprisingly comfortable conversation passed and the sheets of rain continued to pound down upon the giant floor-to-ceiling glass windows and an announcement declared all flights cancelled until morning, Shiro had to concede defeat. The cocky grin Lance shot his way would have been infuriating if the dimples and crow’s feet it formed weren’t so damn adorable.

“Nyma, my dear…mix me up a Last Word on our dear friend here. I think that’s appropriate, don’t you?” Lance motioned to the bartender whose mischievous look rivalled Lance’s own.

“You were sitting on that pun for an hour weren’t you?” The curl of Lance’s lips said it all.

Shiro could add ‘psychic premonitions’ to the growing list of reasons he was sure Lance was sent from the heavens. But growing even faster was the list of things that made Lance so, so human.

Lance’s lips often didn’t make a perfect seal on his glass and he’d dribble his drink without realising. He would laugh a little too loud at something and bashfully shrink in on himself when he realised his inappropriate volume only to repeat his mistake minutes later. He was unable to keep still for more than ten second; legs constantly bouncing, feet tapping against the bar, swiveling around in his stool like it was a teacup ride. They shared a bowl of mixed nuts Lance claimed was actually ‘over salted dog food in a fancy dish’ and Shiro couldn’t find it in him to hate the way Lance ate with his mouth open and talked with a mouthful of mushy cashews.

Little glimpses of normalcy. Every point on the list another nail in his coffin.

The realisation that he was falling for Lance _hard_ did not really come as a surprise. It was merely the recognition of a feeling he’d become well-acquainted with. Thoughts of Lance that plagued his mind had become a common occurrence and with them a silent longing. He knew it was ridiculous to be crushing on someone he’d never really talked to until that evening but now that they’d actually exchanged more than a few words, Shiro knew he would have fallen much faster if they’d met any other way. Talking to Lance and seeing his quirks and traits, good or bad, made him that much more _real_ and that much more dangerous to Shiro’s poor heart.

“End of summer is when the tourists run away back to the mainland and the sky tries to drown the islands. I learnt to enjoy nights playing board games with my family by candlelight and days spent trying to surf gutters in torrential rain because the electricity grid was almost constantly down. Mama got so sick of patching up holes in the roof that I could navigate the countless bowls and buckets catching water around the house blindfolded. Then one summer Cari knocked one over and destroyed our TV and suddenly mama decided actually having a proper roof was important,” Lance reminisces, a wistful far-off smile curling his lips and glossing over his eyes.

_Lance was beautiful and Shiro was screwed._

  
“And that’s how you knew this storm would be bad?”  
  
“Oh, no, no, I’m actually magic,” Lance preened, shit-eating grin Shiro was getting familiar with plastered on his face. Shiro gave him another playful nudge and tried not to think too hard about how comfortable they were getting with casual touching and lively banter. “So where are you from? With a body like that I would have guessed…Olympus?” He adds a wink for emphasis.

And the playful flirting too, Shiro tried not to dwell too hard on that either. He chuckles, finding himself laughing more in one hour with Lance than he had in months. “Japan, actually but moved here pretty young.”

“Ah, tragically my only experience of Japan is a hotel by Narita airport in the cheapest rooms Voltron Air could get.”

“Might be a weird thing to ask a flight attendant but if you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?”

Lance turned to him slowly, biting down the grin that was tugging at his lips. “Your bedroom,” he answered slowly, voice heavy and sultry with a hint of repressed laughter. Shiro wasn’t as good at repressing his chuckles and belted out a loud laugh.

Lance drained the rest of his glass, slamming it down with enough force Nyma winced behind the bar. He stood up, scraping the legs of the stool against the tile, and made his way around to Shiro’s other side where he shoved him lightly. “Come on. There’s comfier places to get smashed and you do owe me a whole night of company.”

Shiro was up in an instant, following behind the man like a lost puppy. His heart pounded against his ribcage. He never would have believed he’d be this excited by the prospect of being stuck in an airport.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of 2! Hope to get the second part finished and posted soon and we'll finally get to the namesake of this fic lol
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this <3


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